Chapter 15 Nora
Nora
Wolf didn’t move at first.
He just lay there beside me, one arm draped over my waist, eyes shut, breathing out a string of muttered curses that sounded like prayers for patience.
Outside, Trigger knocked again.
“HELLOOOO? DON’T MAKE US COME IN! WE’RE HOLDING SCALDING-HOT BEVERAGES!”
I laughed into Wolf’s chest. “They’re not going away.”
“No,” Wolf growled, “but they could.”
Knock. Knock. “NORA, IF YOU’RE DECENT, CAN YOU COUGH TWICE?”
Havoc’s voice cut in. “Trigger, stop talking.”
Saint added, “Wolf, answer the door before Trigger spills coffee on himself and blames you.”
Wolf sat up with the air of a man facing execution.
He grabbed his shirt from the floor but didn’t put it on.
He just pulled it over one shoulder and left the rest hanging—half-shirt, half-warning label.
“Stay here,” he said to me softly.
“Should I be worried?” I asked.
He shot me one of those looks—the kind that said I’ll handle everything and you’re mine to protect all at once.
“No,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Then he left the bedroom.
I slipped out of bed, wrapped myself in a blanket, and followed quietly.
At the Front Door
Wolf opened it with all the warmth of a grizzly coming out of hibernation.
Trigger gasped loudly.
“HOLY MOUNTAIN OF MUSCLE. Good morning to you, Wolf.”
Saint smacked him in the back of the head.
Havoc took one look at Wolf’s half-shirt and rolled his eyes. “Put a shirt on, man. I almost went blind.”
Wolf stared them all down. “Why are you here?”
Trigger beamed. “Friendship!”
Saint held up his phone. “And footage.”
Wolf snatched the phone instantly, all business now.
“What footage?”
Saint stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “Morning feed. A camera across the street picked up movement around 5:17 a.m.”
My stomach dipped. “Movement where?”
“Your yard,” Saint said.
Wolf stiffened.
Trigger held up the coffee carrier like a peace offering. “But good news! We brought caffeine and pastries!”
Havoc muttered, “Priorities, Trigger.”
Wolf walked to the window, hit play on the footage.
The video was grainy but clear enough to raise goosebumps on my arms.
A figure stood at the end of my walkway.
Not moving.
Not approaching.
Just standing there.
Looking at my door.
My breath caught. “What is he doing?”
“Watching,” Wolf said, voice dark.
Trigger squinted. “Does anyone else feel like we’re in a horror movie? No? Just me?”
Saint zoomed in. “He dropped something. Look—right there.”
He tapped the screen.
Near the base of my porch steps…
A small object.
Round.
Metallic.
Wolf’s tone sharpened. “Where is it?”
Havoc stepped forward. “Porch. I checked the perimeter but didn’t open the package.”
Package?
Wolf spun around. “You didn’t touch it?”
“Hell no,” Havoc grunted. “Could be nothing. Could be a bomb. Could be a ratty old button. I leave surprises for you.”
Wolf marched to the front door. “Stay inside,” he said to me, firm.
“No,” I said instinctively. “I—”
His eyes softened, but his voice didn’t. “Nora. Please.”
God help me… I listened.
He stepped outside with Havoc and Saint. Trigger hovered behind them holding coffee like it was a grenade.
I pressed my face to the glass, heart hammering.
Wolf crouched. Reached out.
Picked up the object with two fingers.
He turned it over.
Saint’s brows furrowed. “Is that…?”
Wolf’s jaw locked as he held it up for the others to see.
Trigger leaned in. “Is that a—HOLY CRAP—”
Havoc swore under his breath. “Creepy bastard.”
I couldn’t see what it was.
Not until Wolf came back inside and placed it gently on the table.
My breath froze.
It was a coin.
A dull silver coin with a stamped symbol:
A wolf.
Trigger whispered, “Dude. He left you guys… a personalized death token.”
Saint nodded grimly. “He knows Wolf’s call sign. Or reputation. Or past.”
Havoc folded his arms. “This is targeted. And taunting.”
Wolf said nothing.
He just stared at that coin like he knew exactly what it meant.
Or feared he did.
I stepped close, touching his arm. “What does it mean?”
Wolf looked at me then—finally—and something raw flickered in his eyes.
“It means,” he said quietly, “he’s not just watching.
He’s marking territory.”
Trigger squeaked. “LIKE A COYOTE?”
“No,” Wolf said. His voice darkened. “Like a stalker.”
The room fell silent.
Saint cleared his throat. “We need to update the Sheriff. And get more cameras.”
Havoc nodded. “And Wolf’s staying here until this guy is found.”
Trigger raised a hand. “And I’m sleeping with the lights on for the next five years.”
Wolf exhaled slowly, looked down at the coin again…
…then took my hand.
Warm. Strong. Protective.
He squeezed gently.
“I’m not leaving you,” he said.
And for the first time since this nightmare started—
I believed him.